


Adjustments

by TigerKat



Category: Points - Barnett & Scott
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Domestic, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 17:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerKat/pseuds/TigerKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Eslingen is insecure, Rathe is mildly confused, and there are absolutely no acts of swashbuckling derring-do. Post-Point of Dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adjustments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naughty and nice](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=naughty+and+nice).



Clocks chimed all over the city, pealing midnight out into the darkness. Nicolas Rathe looked sharply up, and glanced at the door, but no, that was foolish. Midnight meant the end of rehearsal, Eslingen had said. He would be home... well, later.

This was why Rathe hated the final week before opening night. Probably about as much as Eslingen would hate the final week before Rathe closed an investigation, if he didn't get himself involved more often than not.

Rathe sighed, glanced at the stew he'd left on the stove for Eslingen, looked down at his book again. He already knew he wasn't going to sleep until his leman was safely home, no matter what Eslingen said. The other man might scold, but he knew what could happen in Astreiant even to a man as capable as Eslingen was, and he slept better knowing he was home.

Besides, they had things to talk about. Istre b'Estorr, for one. But he would leave that thought for now.

Half a chapter later, he heard boots clumping up the stairs in the peculiar dragging gait of someone who'd been on their feet all day and wanted nothing more than to sit down right now, thank you very much. Rathe put the book away, got up, and opened the door.

"You look tired," he said, by way of greeting. Eslingen looked up at him and half-grimaced.

"I told you not to wait up for me." Rathe did not bother to answer this obvious foolishness, and after a moment, Eslingen dragged himself up the rest of the stairs. "I hope," he continued, "that you didn't eat all the dinner."

"Of course not," Rathe said. "Sit down, I'll get you some. I take it rehearsal went well."

Eslingen considered this as he deposited his coat on the back of a chair (taking care as always to hang it so it wouldn't crease) then sat on it to pull off his boots. "If by well, you mean terribly," he said, at last. "But Gavi assures me that a terrible dress rehearsal means a good performance, and I suppose he would know."

"Probably." The stew was still warm, so Rathe didn't bother poking up the fire. He carried the bowl over, put it in front of his leman, and on impulse ruffled the other man's hair. "You'll be fine."

Eslingen gave him an astonished look that melted into pleasure. "Thanks, I think. Any creative murders today?"

Rathe shook his head and sat down on the other side of the table. "Not really. Certainly nothing on the scale of that mess with the Alphabet."

"Thank Tyresis for that," Eslingen murmured. "Those cases are... interesting, but not what I'd call comfortable."

"Considering that Aubine tried to kill both of us? With flowers? Yeah, I'd say that."

There seemed little more to say, after that, and they fell into a comfortable silence together. Eslingen applied himself to his dinner; Rathe considered his leman, and wondered how best to bring up the subject of b'Estorr. Or, more precisely, the reason b'Estorr claimed he didn't come over for dinner anymore.

"I'd rather not antagonize Phillip," he'd said, his eyes twinkling madly. "I'll meet you at Wicked's for lunch tomorrow, if you like." And nothing Rathe could do or say would pry any more information out of the necromancer, or indeed get him to do anything except laugh.

B'Estorr was an old friend, and a good one, but he did have an irritating habit of not telling people things that might be useful.

"Nico," Eslingen said. "You have that look again."

Startled, Rathe blinked. "What look?"

"The look that means you want to ask me something but don't know how to start," Eslingen said, grinning. He leaned back in his chair. "Out with it. I promise I won't fuss."

"It's not what you think," Rathe warned him. "No case or... what did you call it yesterday?"

"Swashbuckling derring-do?"

"That's the one. There's none of that. Just an uncomfortable conversation."

Eslingen sighed dramatically. "I shall strive to resign myself to the lack of derring-do. But seriously, Nico."

All right then. "It's Istre," he said. "He said he won't come over for dinner anymore because, and I quote, he'd rather not antagonize you. What did he mean?"

Eslingen shifted in his seat and looked suddenly uncomfortable. "That sounds like something you should ask him," he said.

Hmm. That was not a promising answer. Nevertheless, he had a point. "I did ask him," Rathe said. "He evaded. A lot like you're doing now."

That won a reluctant smile from Eslingen, at least. "Yeah, well. He might not have wanted to speculate."

"That sounds like Istre," Rathe agreed, diplomatically.

Eslingen made an noncommittal sound in return, and they sat in a somewhat less comfortable silence for a moment.

"Phillip," Rathe said, at last, "I _am_ a pointsman."

"I know, I know," Eslingen said, and smiled at him again. "And a very good one you are, too. I'm not dodging, I'm just having trouble saying this the right way."

Rathe nodded. "I can wait. Meaningfully."

Eslingen laughed. "Your point is taken. All right, it's... it's not that I don't like Istre, particularly. I think he's very nice." He hesitated, then added, "Also very handsome."

Rathe stared at him. "Phillip, don't tell me your astonishing ego has failed you."

Instead of taking up the joke, Eslingen only shook his head, and pushed away his bowl. "Not... quite what I meant. It's more... look, Nico, you and I, this is the first time anything's ever been... quite this serious. For me, anyway."

What that had to do with b'Estorr, Rathe could not quite make out, but he was willing to let Eslingen get there in his own time. "For me, too."

"Right, well, it's new, and..." Eslingen waved a hand in the air, an uncharacteristically helpless gesture. "I keep thinking it's all going to go away somehow. Not that I want it to," he added, hastily, and Rathe stifled a smile. "I'm just... you like b'Estorr, very much, and I know that the two of you are very good friends. I know that you love me, I do trust you, and all this is silly. I am trying very hard not to be an ass about all of this, but it seems I failed."

He'd ended on a rather plaintive note, which made Rathe want to kiss him senseless. Reassurances first, though. "You didn't fail," he said. "You just confused me."

Eslingen gave him a rather weak smile. "I wasn't trying to."

Rathe nodded. "I know, and I appreciate it. Look, if it'll make you feel better I'll stop bringing Istre back here."

"Oh, no, Nico, I don't want to..." Eslingen inhaled through his nose, and leaned forward over the table. "This is my problem. It shouldn't be yours."

Rathe raised an eyebrow. "Don't be an idiot, Phillip. I'm your leman, which makes it my problem."

There, that was Eslingen's natural smile, and it was very good to see it, too. "If you say so. Yes, it would make me more comfortable, but I don't want to put you out."

"We usually eat at Wicked's, anyway. She has better wine." Rathe shrugged. "Phillip, you know you can come to me about things like this, yeah? That's what I'm here for."

"I do know that," Eslingen said, somewhat hesitantly. "It's just... I was trying not--"

"--to be an ass," Rathe finished, and smiled warmly at him. "It's kind of you. Now get in bed. You look like something the cat dragged in."

"Thanks, Nico, I love you too," Eslingen said, dryly, but he got up and carried the bowl to the stack of dishes that they hadn't yet got around to washing. "You and that silver tongue of yours."

Rathe, who had got up himself to turn down the bedcovers, looked back at his leman and shook his head. "At least your ego is still intact."

"You cut me to the quick." Eslingen put a hand to his heart. The dramatic quality was somewhat moderated by the fact that he was still holding his spoon. "You _wound_ me. You'll have to do something spectacular to make up for it."

"Really now," Rathe said, dryly. "What did you have in mind?"

"Flowers?" Eslingen suggested, radiating innocence.

Half a second later he ducked a hurled pillow and sniggered all the way into bed.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize this is not quite what you asked for, but I hope it pleases you nonetheless. Happy holidays!


End file.
